#he'd have the same reaction with men but nobody wants to talk about that.

[spacestationstorybook]

i HAAAAAATE‏‏‎ ‎lackadaisy‏‏‎ ‎fans‏‏‎ ‎just saw the world's‏‏‎ ‎STUPIDEST meme. can you explode!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wri0thesley]

i just. sending welt nudes while hes on a trailblazing mission. videos of you touching yourself telling him how much you miss him on the train. welt having to excuse himself to relieve some of that tension. he replies with an audio clip of him moaning your name as he comes to your messages.

cw: masturbation, erotic images, somewhat non-consensual voyeurism, reader is afab and chubby-coded. welt uses names 'sweetheart, darling, vixen'.

"Of course, General, if we can be of help we're more than happy to--"

Welt is interrupted by the chirping of his cell-phone; he glances at the screen as he tails off, to see that he's received a new message from you. Your trademark style of typing flashes across his screen; he barely represses the smile that always wants to flit across his features when he thinks of you.

I miss you! ;m;! [you have received 1 image]

This time, the smile does break his face, as March 7th takes over talking for him, clearly seeing that he's distracted. He wonders what you've sent as the attachment; just recently, March has shown you how to access a great number of GIFs and reaction images online; he wonders if it's one of your favoured cat gifs, or perhaps a sad rabbit with a river of tears running from its eyes, or even just your same sentiment expressed in glittering text--

Not even thinking, he swipes his thumb across to view it.

And almost drops his phone.

It takes all of his quick thinking to ensure that Caelus beside him doesn't see the image that flashes up on his screen. Ordinarily, he'd have been thrilled to receive such a thing - ordinarily, though, he isn't in a meeting with one of the most important men in the political landscape of his current world.

Jing Yuan regards him over the table, head tilted to one side like a large reclining lion.

"Are you alright, Mr Yang?" He asks, in that deep, low voice that somehow always manages to sound a little tired. "Do you need a minute?"

If Welt wasn't sure that nobody had seen the screen, he would almost say that Jing Yuan knew what kind of image he had just received.

His phone lets off another chirp. Welt glances down and - oh, Aeons, this one is even more brazen than the first. His throat suddenly goes dry; the stricture in his trousers becomes more and more uncomfortable. What are you thinking?

He coughs, readjusting his glasses, standing and trying to angle himself so that the predicament your little messages have caused isn't broadcast to everyone present.

"Yes," he says. "Actually, I think I'll excuse myself for a moment--"

He barely thinks as he stumbles towards the door that Jing Yuan motions to, a small smile on the man's leonine features. All he can think about is getting out of the suddenly stuffy meeting room, finding somewhere private to study the images he's just been sent--

The bathroom door locks behind him and he sags in relief, back against the door, palms sweating as he fumbles for his phone and another chirp goes off.

First things first.

He takes a moment to look at that first image again.

Compared to the later ones, this one seems almost tame - but out of nowhere in the middle of an important strategy meeting, Welt had almost entirely lost his cool. He studies it.

You sit on his bed, the cushions and the sheets rumpled. You wear one of his over-sized button-up shirts (bought in the largest size possible precisely because Welt has always had a secret fantasy about this exact kind of image, and he had wanted to ensure it would fit no matter what size his eventual sweetheart had been) - the button placket undone, pressed either side of your body so that the curve of your chest is visible but nothing so louche as your nipples. The curve of your soft tummy visible; the hem of the shirt barely brushing the lushness of your thighs. Your arms squeeze your chest together, one finger innocently resting on your lower lip--

It's an image designed to seduce him through and through, and Welt is utterly entranced. A huff of hot breath escapes him as he gazes at you.

It won't matter, will it? His hand floats down to the front of his trousers without him really thinking things through. Of course, it's embarrassing that he needs to, but far more embarrassing would be going back out there with his cock tenting the front of his pants--

His trousers and underwear are pushed down to around his thighs. He gasps as he takes a firm grip of his cock, eyes not focusing on anything but your body - the memory of your soft curves pressed against him, the sight of your skin teasing him . . .

He flicks over to the next image with the thumb of the hand holding his phone.

This one is far more obvious in intent.

The shirt has fallen entirely from your body, revealing the peak of your nipples beneath; the curve of you that Welt knows fits so perfectly in his calloused hands. Too, your thighs have moved - to spread apart; the camera perfectly capturing the space between your thighs. That would perhaps have been enough to drive a man mad on its own, but your hand has also changed position - no longer toying seductively with your pretty mouth, but two fingers spreading the petals of your sex apart so Welt can see the way the wetness glimmers on your poor unplundered folds in perfect clarity.

He slides his fist over his cock, teasing his head with his thumb, wishing upon fervent wish that it was your cunt he was buried in and not his own hand.

This one has an accompanying text message, too.

I wish you were here to do this for me ;_;.

A few moments later - that must have been the chirp he heard when he locked the bathroom door--

My fingers don't feel as good as your cock does, Mr Yang </3.

Welt is shaking with want. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he continues to work his hand over his cock, as he strokes himself and thinks of you and all of your sweetnesses and virtues.

Another chirp.

[You have received [1] video clip]

Well.

If he's going to hell anyway--

He swipes along to view it.

Oh. The video starts automatically, and Welt is glad that he keeps his volume on low at all times. He hears your soft little moans like they are a jolt directly to his nervous system; every cadene and whine as familiar as his own hand. It's clearly been a little harder to film a whole video than to take a few images, but . . . Welt appreciates the view even so, as he sees your fingers delve in and out of your cunt. The way your wetness drools out around the digits, the slick plunging noises - the way your other finger toys with your nipples, pinching them--

(You'd told him one, cheeks hot, you could hardly come without them being touched, now - not when Welt so often tugs at them with his teeth, pinches them between his big fingers until you whine for him and come on his cock in tandem with his ministrations).

You cry out his name, back arching, and Welt recognises the trembling line of your body, the way you seem to pull in towards yourself and then let it go again. You come for him, on his tiny phone-screen, and it makes him ache and rage and long that he can't be there for you to kiss you through your orgasm and kiss your sweat-slicked forehead and tease your over-sensitive folds--

(You're always so, so sensitive. The brush of his fingers after you've come makes you mumble and whine, burying your head into his shoulder, softly whimpering that 't-too much, M-Mr Yang-- Welt-- I c-can't--'. Of course, he knows that you both can and will . . . but the sight of you so utterly wrecked makes him flush with pleasure and pride even so).

Fuck.

Without thinking, he flips his thumb over the button for sending a voice memo. Watching the little audio track come up on screen, pulsing in time with his ragged breaths, he begins to talk to it as if he is speaking directly to you.

"Ah, sweetheart . . . what am I going to do with you?"

His voice comes out gritty and dark with barely repressed lust, his vowels and consonants dry. The constant slick of his hand working over his cock must surely be audible in the recording, but Welt could not care less.

"I miss you too - but darling, please, I was busy . . . did you know I had to excuse myself to the bathroom just so I could touch myself to those pictures? That video?" He groans, remembering the sight of you. He's breathless.

"Little vixen. You knew that you'd distract me, didn't you, hmm? You know I wish it were my cock inside of you and not your pretty little fingers . . . Fuck." He takes a moment to swear as the sound of your fingers plunging in and out of you fill his brain. His cock twitches in his grip. "You can't reach far enough, can you? Poor thing . . . Ah. When I get back, I'm going to pin you underneath me and work you open until you break--"

He imagines the way you'd swallow at that, the bob of your throat, the arousal that would cloud your lovely gaze. He grunts, groans, moans into the microphone of the little device.

"You're incorrigible, you know . . . I shouldn't leave you on your own. A few days without my cock and you become utterly shameless. Ah. I hope you'll make this up to me when I'm baa-aaack--"

At the thought of all the ways that you could 'make it up to him', Welt feels himself break. His cock twitches in his hand, a tightening low in his stomach, and then as sparks dance in his eyes he comes all over his fingers, spattering them with pearly drops of his release.

He stands there for a moment, breath heaving, glasses askew, cock out, as he presses 'send' on the audio recording.

Gathers his bearings.

After a few deep breaths, he's able to reach for something to wipe himself down with and clean up. He's able to control the rabbiting of his heart.

Rearrange his clothing. Wait for his cheeks to unredden.

He turns to the mirror to check there's nothing wrong with the rest of him, reaching to tug his glasses back into their proper place - and he realises something with a lurch of his stomach.

His glasses. The angle of his phone, when he had checked it. Your little picture - the reflection. The man sat directly opposite him - the Arbiter-General--

His phone chirps once more.

This time, the accompanying text is not from you.

Jing Yuan: You're very lucky your two companions seem rather innocent. You're not as deft as you think you are, Mr Yang. Jing Yuan: Pretty little finch you have there, though. Jing Yuan: What's their name?

[singofsolace]

Taking a minor break from my Ted Lasso spiraling to mention:

I've been listening to the West Wing Weekly Podcast while I clean and do chores, to help my brain actually accomplish said chores, and about 15 minutes into the Two Cathedrals (Part One) episode, I was stopped in my tracks by the discussion I was hearing.

Lawrence O'Donnell is talking about how he basically got accidentally cast as Jed Bartlet's (physically abusive) father, after simply reading the role at the table read one day like he'd done for many guest parts before in his capacity as a producer. Then he says:

"At the end of the read through, the women in the cast start coming up to me--Allison Janney first, followed by Janel Moloney--and saying pretty much the same thing, which is 'Oh my god, that was really scary what you did.' And I didn't know what I had done, because my take on this, being from my kind of tough-guy Boston Irish neighborhood, was: this is the nicest dad I've ever seen. [Josh Malina and Hrishi Hirway, who are listening, laugh]. That's who I was playing...

"You know, first of all, he's this educated man and he only hit the kid once! That is unheard of in St. Brendan's parish, where I grew up. [...] In those days, you know, this was all before any books had been written about child-rearing, and nobody knew you weren't supposed to hit them--nobody knew that...

"So, that's the world I'm from, and so really, I mean it when I say to you, this guy read to me as a guy of real erudition and class and all that stuff, several classes above the class that I grew up in, and so the notion that he just gives the kid a wack in a moment was no big deal to me, and somewhere in that, of course, was the terror that Allison Janney and Janel were seeing. Like, 'oh my god, this guy doesn't even--he does it [hits the kid], and it's second nature to him, it's like nothing.'

"And the other part I didn't know, when Tommy Schlamme saw that, he leaned in to Aaron at the end of the episode and said: 'that's what I want in Bartlet's father.’ Now, he didn't mean me--the actor--not at all. That's just the performance [he wanted] and Aaron said 'yeah, that's what we need.'"

~~~

So I'm listening to Lawrence O'Donnell tell this story while I wash some dishes, and I'm just thinking... can you imagine being Allison or Janel at that table read, thinking it was an “acting choice” that he made, only to come to the sudden realization by talking to him that it wasn't a choice at all?? Like, how chilling is that?

At first I thought: Clearly, since Allison and Janel were so disturbed by his performance at the table read, and then more disturbed by the discovery that it was not his intention to disturb anyone, there was a major cultural shift that must’ve happened between O'Donnell's childhood and theirs, but then I looked it up, and Allison is only seven years younger than Lawrence O'Donnell. They grew up in practically the same time, and were raised by the same generation of parents!

And sure, you could argue that gender might be a major factor here, (that certainly seems to be what Lawrence is suggesting, at least), and that Allison and Lawrence were likely raised by two completely different "types" of parents, but still. Something about the casual way O'Donnell discusses specifically the women being scared by his performance makes my stomach a little queasy. Is he therefore saying none of the men in the cast were disturbed? None of them felt the same way as Allison and Janel? Or is he just highlighting the 'terror' in their reactions specifically because it...what...? Surprised him that the women would be scared by a physically abusive father being portrayed by one of their producers as "the nicest dad [he'd] ever seen"?

I'm not sure I'm effectively communicating my point, or even if I have a point, I'm just feeling a bit sick to my stomach, and wanted to write it all out. Does anyone else have thoughts on this?

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week 2020: Day 1 - First Meeting

Summary: After a crappy post-college first year, Laxus jumped at the opportunity to leave town for a week for a road trip with his friends. He intended it just to be a week away with his friends, but when he meets an unfamiliar stranger, the vacation turns into something much more. [Fraxus Multichapter]

This was written as part of the annual Fraxus Week event hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​​. This year I’ve decided to make an eight-part multi-chapter fic out of the prompts. They might not be in the correct order, but I think the end product will be worth it. Hope you all enjoy it.

You can read this on Fanfiction, Archive of our Own, and under the cut.  Read the other chapters from this masterlist.

Chapter One – Getting Aboard

It had been Bickslow's idea.

Nobody would think it, but the blue haired idiot was perhaps the most caring of the group, the mother figure, in a way. He wasn't the most conventional 'mom friend', and it certainly didn't diminish his enthusiasm to get drunk off his ass when the opportunity presented itself, but he was always the one keeping an eye out on his friends and knew when something was wrong. Apparently he had seen something was wrong with all three of them, and had come up with this plan on how to fix it.

A road trip to the Grand Canyon. None of his friends knew where the idea had come from, nor did they know why he insisted on renting an RV and driving there instead of getting the train. But the man had this enthusiasm about him that was cast upon them like a spell, and they couldn't find a way to fight it. Perhaps they all knew they needed the break.

Laxus was damn sure he did.

It had been just shy of a year since his graduation from college, and his plan had been to get a job in a gym being a personal trainer. That hadn't happened. He'd gone to many job interviews and nothing had come from any of them, and each rejection had been like a punch to the gut. He knew he couldn't just use his grandfather's money for ever, so had gotten what was meant to be a temporary job in an office while he looked for more appropriate employment. That had been nine months ago, and he hadn't been near to an interview for his chosen career in over half a year.

So far, his post college life had been a failure. Perhaps he had been naïve to think good things would happen instantly, perhaps he just needed to be patient. But the idea of getting away from everything for a week was what he needed.

Even if it was in what he could only assume was a crappy van.

Even if he had to wake up at five thirty to get on the highway before the majority of traffic, for some reason.

Even if one of the people he was traveling with was a stranger.

He had known Bickslow for the longest. They had been friends since they were kids and, although Bickslow moving away for college had meant they weren't as close as they once were, Laxus still considered the man his closest friend. He was chaotic, loyal, and overall just a fun guy. He could be obnoxious, but who couldn't?

Evergreen had come later, when she transferred into their high-school and Bickslow had dragged her into their small group. She was a little haughty at first, but that was clearly a defensive state she took on as the new girl. As they got closer, she showed a snarkier and quick-witted side. She fit in with the two men like the missing piece of a puzzle, even if she had a stupid insistence of hitting them with a fan when annoyed.

But now there was Freed.

Laxus didn't know all that much about Freed. He knew that he went to the same college that Bickslow and Ever did. He knew that he lived a few towns over, about half an hour's drive. He knew that he was a literary and science major. That was it. But both Bix and Ever thought well of him, so he was probably a good person.

"What time is he coming?" Makarov asked, cupping a mug of coffee while sitting at the kitchen table.

"Should be a few minutes," Laxus shrugged, biting into the toast he'd made for himself.

"I don't get why you have to leave this early," Makarov commented, glancing at the clock handing on the wall as sipped his drink. "You're going to be driving for days on end, you'll get caught in traffic anyway. You might as well sleep in to an appropriate time."

"Nobody asked you to see me off," Laxus quirked an eyebrow. He agreed with the sentiment though, he'd much rather leave later and deal with the traffic.

"No, but you seemed determined to bump into everything as you were getting ready and to make as much noise as you could. It's hard to sleep through that," Makarov grinned, clearly trying to get a reaction out of his grandson. "Besides, it's been years since I saw your friends, it'll be nice to see them again. And that new boy you'll be travelling with, I want to mee him too."

"We're picking him up later," Laxus said, crunching another bite of toast; he had burned it.

"Ah," Makarov nodded.

The two men fall into a comfortable quiet, the silence being accompanied by the radio Makarov had insisted turning on despite complaining about all the music they played. Laxus ate his breakfast while his grandfather read the newspaper. Once Laxus was finished, he checked the small suitcase that he had packed for himself to make sure it had everything he needed, then sat back at the kitchen table and waited for his friends to arrive.

A few minutes later he got the text saying that Bickslow was outside. He cracked his back and walked to the front door of the house he shared with his grandfather, and looked upon the large RV that had been parked at the foot of the driveway.

It was an impressive looking vehicle, and probably a good model. The idea to go on this road trip had been made in March, giving the four of them four months to save up enough to hire something relatively luxurious. Bickslow was hanging out of driver's seat window with a wide grin on his face, clearly happy that his plan was starting. Laxus found his enthusiasm infectious, and a small smile graced his lips as he approached.

This was exactly what he needed to put aside the disappointment of the year.

"Hey man," Bickslow greeted with a voice too loud for the time of the morning. He looked past Laxus and grinned wider. "Hey Mr D."

"Morning Bickslow," Makarov greeted from the doorframe, smiling. "Is Evergreen not with you?"

"She's in the back, sleepin'. Told her that it'll take a hell of a lot of beauty sleep not to make her look like that, but she didn't listen to me," He cackled at his own joke, and Laxus chuckled as he saw a hairbrush hit him in the back of his head. "The big guy wake you up, Mr D?"

"What do you think?" Makarov laughed, and Laxus glared at him. Since when was it a known trait that he couldn't keep quiet in the morning?

"See you in a week-old man," Laxus waved his hand, hoping to stop the taunting conversation between his friend and relative. "Try not to die while I'm gone."

"Cheeky brat," Makarov retorted with a grin. "Have fun kids."

Bickslow gave a response in the affirmative while Laxus pulled open the door of the RV, climbing up the steps. It was as nice inside as it was outside, with a small table and seating nook, a cooking area, a bed at the back and a small room that Laxus assumed would be the washroom. Laxus absently wondered if either he or Bickslow would manage to fit in the shower, given their size. But still, it was a nice vehicle and would be more than enough for their week inside of it.

Laxus walked to the front of the vehicle and took the passenger's seat, grinning at the sight of Evergreen with an eye mask on while buckled into the seats surrounding the table. The seat was comfortable enough, and Laxus found himself smiling at the vehicle.

"She's nice, right," Bickslow grinned in reference to the RV. "Best one they had. Turns out four of us not having any fun for months means we save a lot of money."

"Glad to hear it," Laxus chuckled. "I half expected you to pull up in some crappy van with a piss stained mattress in the back."

"Oddly specific there Dreyar. Speaking from experience?" Bickslow grinned, and it was clear that his excitement was going to make him completely obnoxious throughout the week. As annoying as it was, Laxus wouldn't have it any other way. "So, just gonna put this out here. Sleeping situation. The bed at the back fits two, and the table folds away and makes another single bed. Obviously, they'll be two of us in the back. So we can either have Ever and Freed sharing the single bed 'casue we won't fit-"

"Like hell I'm sharing," Ever snapped from her seat. "It'll be cramped enough as it is."

"Or we take turns each night with one of us in that chair," He nodded to the seat Laxus was sitting in. "It reclines and turns slightly, so they'll be enough leg space. It's basically like a plane seat without anyone behind you."

"I'm sure we can manage with that," Laxus nodded. "Wouldn't wanna piss of medusa," A hairbrush hit the back of Laxus' head this time. "How many brushes do you have?"

"Five, they each do different things," Evergreen grunted from her seat, and Laxus chuckled when he saw her put the mask over her eyes again.

"How can they do different things?" Laxus asked.

"They just do, it's why they're all different shapes and have thinner and thicker prongs," Evergreen sighed. "Ask Freed when he gets here, I'm sure he'll know. And that way you won't be talking to me and I can get some sleep."

Laxus decided not to push his luck, knowing that his friend had enough strength to throw a hair dryer at his head, as well as the morality to do so. Instead he leant over to Bickslow, who had pushed the key into the ignition, and spoke softly.

"Why would he know much about hair brushes exactly?" He asked, and Bickslow looked at him with confusion before realisation hit him.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting that you know basically nothing about him," He laughed, turning the key, and starting the engine. It was a powerful machine, and Laxus appreciated it. "Freed's got really long hair, keeps it pretty well looked after too. Goes down to his ass, don't know when he last had it cut. It looks good on him though. Oh, and it's green. Like, bright green."

"Really," Laxus furrowed his brows. "Everything you've said about him makes him seem pretty… strait laced I guess."

"He is, kinda. He's just got green hair," Bickslow shrugged, smiling wide. "He's kinda contradictory when you get to know him. You'll love him, I know it baby."

Bickslow revved the engine unnecessarily, waved out the window with an overly loud 'Bye Mr D!' as he did so, and started to pull out from Laxus' neighbourhood. Laxus gave his grandfather a small wave in goodbye, and saw the old man return the gesture. He leant back in his comfortable chair and allowed the gentle vibrations of the vehicle moving to calm him, closing his eyes softly as the warm sun hit his face through the front window.

This was exactly what he had needed after the year he'd had, and even the idea of being in the RV with a stranger didn't put a damper on his mood.

~~~

It had taken about forty minutes to get into the town Freed had lived in, and only a little while longer to get to his apartment. The building wasn't the nicest looking place in the world, and Bickslow explained that Freed lived by himself and financed his own life through his student loan and a job. Laxus didn't judge him; that was an admirable thing to do and he couldn't look down on his because he lived in a slightly crappy apartment building.

Honestly, for some reason he had expected a spoiled kid.

"Could you go up and get him?" Bickslow asked, looking towards Laxus.

"Can't you text him?"

"Nah, he takes hours to answer any texts, so I never know if he actually reads them quickly or not. Don't wanna be waiting down here for ages," Bickslow shrugged, and then grinned. "Besides, it'll give the two of ya a chance to get to know each other before you get trapped in here with us. Makes it less awkward."

Laxus sighed, but nodded. He was almost certain that getting to know Freed was the only reason he had been chosen to find the man, but he couldn't prove it as he didn't know if Bickslow's claim about his texting etiquette was true or not. He shifted his way out of the RV, Bickslow shouting the man's apartment number and the code for the door as he did so. Once he closed the door, he could swear that he heard the two speaking in the van, but ignored it.

The apartment building wasn't run down, but it was lacking luxury. Paint was peeling off some of the walls and the elevator opened with a horrid creak. Laxus walked into it and pushed the button for the ninth floor.

A ridiculous bubble of nervousness entered his stomach as the elevator started to ascend. He had never been talented socially, and his communication skills were both blunt and often uncared for. This had meant he never truly got used to being around new people, and it took him a while to warm up with most people. And now he was going to be stuck in a pretty small RV for around a week with a man he didn't know. He knew that his friends were good judges of characters and they assured him that they'd get along, but Laxus still could be nervous about meeting him.

Once the lift had found the right floor, Laxus looked around and settled on the sixth apartment's door. He knocked it curtly, the sound echoing awkwardly in the hallway. Laxus fidgeted for a moment before it was opened, revealing Freed.

"Oh," The man said in a velvet smooth voice. "Hello."

"Hey," Laxus greeted. "I'm Laxus, Bickslow might have told you about me. He said to come get you."

"Of course," The man said, and offered him a smile.

It was a nice smile. In fact the entirety of the man was nice to look at. He had long green hair, as Bickslow had said, and it was tied up in a high pony tail. A few green strands had fallen down to frame his face, accenting his sharp features, and pronounced bone structure. His outfit portrayed a fit body, and the unassigned top button showed a small slather of a firm chest. He had piercing blue eyes, a small black mark high on his left cheek, and thin lips.

When his eyes flickered down, he saw that the man had two large sports bags at his feet, clearly his own luggage. Laxus was suddenly reminded of why he was there, and snapped out of his split-second trance.

"You need help with them?" He offered.

"I'm fine," Freed assured him. "Although you could hold this if you don't mind."

He reached for a shelf in his apartment and picked up a small plastic thermos, handing it to Laxus. The blonde took it and looked at it with confusion. "Doesn't it make more sense for you to hold your own drink. I really don't mind taking a bag."

"It's not for me," Freed explained, lifting his bags out of his apartment, and placing them down to lock the door. "I shared a morning class with Evergreen, and she was snappy enough at eight in the morning, let alone half six. I assumed she might need some caffeine."

"Yeah, both me a Bix got a hairbrush thrown at us already," Laxus laughed. "Probably a good call."

"I would have made the two of you one as well," Freed stated as they walked down the hall. "But I don't know what you drink, and I don't believe that Bickslow needs any help in being overly energetic."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure my grandpa's neighbour is gonna complain because of the shouting," Laxus grinned a little as he called the elevator. His friends were a topic he could handle.

"I'm surprised he didn't try and get my attention by yelling from the sidewalk."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that the only reason he sent me up here is so we can talk without them being there," Laxus admitted, before wondering if it was appropriate to say so. Was it meant to be a secret?

"It makes sense," Freed nodded. "They haven't really told me too much about you. I know your name, that you're a year older than us, and that you went to college to become trained in sports science and physiotherapy. That's essentially it."

"Well, that's all true," Laxus said as he walked into the open elevator. "I haven't gotten a job in my field yet, so I took a temp job. But I'm still looking. Bix said you've got a job as well as going to college?"

"I'm a waiter at Blue Pegasus, a restaurant a few blocks away," Freed explained. "It's not the most interesting work, but the pay is enough to keep me stable. And sometimes I'll get a meal at the end of the shift for free, so I can't complain."

Laxus nodded, understanding the conflict of working at a job that doesn't thrill you without having the option of quitting. The elevator started to slide down, and a repetitive tone began to play in the small box. Neither man spoke, and Laxus would have expected the urge to fill the silence, but it didn't come. For whatever reason, he felt comfortable with not speaking when Freed was around, something that didn't happen to him often.

Thinking back, the last time he had been okay in silence with a stranger had been Evergreen.

They reached the bottom floor hallway of the building a moment later, and Laxus held open the front door for Freed so the man could walk out without dropping his bags. When they walked into the morning sun, Laxus found himself momentarily transfixed by the sight of the man under natural light.

He looked radiant.

His slightly paler skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his perfectly brushed hair shimmered in the light. His eyes even seemed to sparkle as he approached the comparatively dull vehicle that was their home for the next week. Laxus' grip on the thermos tightened slightly as he walked forward.

"Just opened the storage," Bickslow commented from the window. "Put your bags in there, so we have space."

Freed nodded, walking to the small storage cubby that was opened from the side of the truck. He placed his bags down and opened it, and Laxus walked beside him. Freed placed one of the bags into the RV's trunk equivalent, and Laxus lifted the other to do the same. It held a fair amount of weight to it, and Laxus found himself impressed that the man had managed to lift this and another bag without any difficulty. Maybe the bulging in his sleeves wasn't just vanity muscles, as Laxus had assumed.

"Thank you," Freed nodded towards Laxus, closing the storage space.

"It's fine," Laxus assured him.

The two men climbed inside the RV, being greeted by a still too cheery 'welcome to the party bus' form Bickslow. Laxus saw that, in his time in the building, Evergreen had taken the front seat and was reclining in it with the eye mask on and a blanket covering her body. He rolled his eyes, placed the drink in a cup holder on the dash, and looked back over the RV's interior. The only place you could sit while it moved were in the table booth that Freed was sitting at. Laxus took the seat opposite him.

As he got into the leather booth, he saw that Freed had taken out a novel and was scanning the paged with quick moving eyes. The sun was hitting his face just right and illuminated it in a damn impressive way. Annoyingly, Laxus blushed

"All aboard," Bickslow yelled. "Next stop, the Grand Canyon."

And, with a pleasant nervousness in his stomach as he looked at Freed, Laxus found himself excited for the journey.

[odissey061]

Motonari's route

Chapter(s) posted:

1. This freak won't have me

2. Kick him in the teeth

Please, teach me a better way to create link because I can't do it by myself

Chapter 3: This trick never worked at human's memory

Tag: @towa-no-yume @r-f-a-journalists

When I open my eyes the first thing I feel is an acute headache: the hands run through the hair until I discover a bump. I press it to see if I feel the pain and then I whimper like a baby: it hurts a lot. Why I'm so stupid? I take a look around me and I notice I'm in a cold and empty cell. The room is surrounded by three wooden walls and before me there's an iron grille. Here and there on the floor against the wall there are spooky chains that make me chill and smile nervously. At this moment I heard the rolling waves and I understand I'm on a ship.

Where I am? How many time has passed since my kidnap? I must return to the Oda right now! A lot of hours passed since I left Azuchi castle: I told to Hideyoshi I'd come back after lunch, so probably they have already noticed my absence.

I try open the door but, obviously, is locked and I look around to find something to force the look, but the room is empty, except the chain on the wall. Then I took a clip from my hair and, holding it tight in the hand, I pray:"At human memory this trick never worked, but, please, if there's even the littlest chance, make it happens". Great, now I pray to objects like they were gods!

I plug the clasp in the door lock but, as I expected, it doesn't work. Pushed by despair, I retry again and again, but after a large number of failed attempts and swears, finally I give up and I lean my back on the wall. A man appears in front of me: he's very tall and his body is made by tons of muscles, his eyes shining with malice. With a look I understand this man is a brute and he doesn't hesitate to use violence and if I had to fight against him, I'd probably die. "Who are you and why I'm here?" I demand, but he laughs dryly:"I'm the one who makes the questions here, little girl" and he opens the door. As he spoke, I recognize him as the man who kidnapped me. He enters in the cell and leaves open the door. I try to gain more time:"I understand why you kidnapped me: I'm very close to the Oda commanders and your boss wants information about them", Well, at least you are not stupid, that makes easier my work. So little girl, talk about your friends" he comments. "The problem is exactly about this: you see, I'm only their maid and I don't know anything about their future moves, so keep me here is useless" I lie and I walk towards the door. But the man grabs my hair, making me moan for the pain and yells at me:"You think I'm so stupid to believe you? I'm not a fool! In Azuchi people say Nobunaga brought you to battle on his horse  His voice becomes lower, still being threatening:"If you don't tell me spontaneously all you know about them, I'll make you confess with the bad manners". And when he shows a bag full of torture instruments and I'm terrified. I don't know very much about torture, but I can imagine how much they'd hurt my body. I want to scream for help, but I know nobody will save me. My face gets paler. I know already how this will finish: this man will torture me until I speak, but I don't know anything, so he'll kill me for nothing. I'll die for anything!!

"I'm not his lover: I'm his maid and I have been staying in Azuchi for a few days. I don't know anything about them and if I knew something, I surely won't talk to you" I repeat using a quiet voice to not make him angrier. "Bad answer" he smiles sadistically, almost happy about my resistance and slaps me so violently to turn my head. "Try again, little girl, but the next time I won't so merciful".

"And if I don't confess what are you going to?" I bravely provoke him. The Oda forces helped me a lot and I won't betray them for my own safety. "I'll break all of your bones and if you won't talk, then I'll cut the tendons of your hands and your feet. If you still won't confess I'll remove your eyes, then I'll tear your ears and finally I'll cut your tongue" his threats scare me a lot, but I won't give up my loyalty. He takes from the bag a strange object and he places it near to my nails.

No no no no. Please, somebody help me!

I close the eyes too scared to watch, but at that moment I hear a new voice:"Yoshitoko, what are you doing here? I'm sure the captain hasn't told you to torture this girl since he is out to collect information with a few men. So I wonder: whose order are you following?". I open my eyes and I see a young man who's throwing diggers with the glare at the man in front of me. The newcomer is younger than this man, but somehow the eldest has to obey him. "The captain is still a child, quartermaster: if all of us wait for his command, we'd have alredy died. He doesn't know what to do and he's not able to keep the promise he made" he growls, "He's the captain, not you: he knows what's the best for us better than you. You are only able to hurt people and torture them, for this reason you won't be a captain. Now leave, Yoshitoko" The man speaks with a rough voice and I can feel the subtle threat he silently implies. I except a Yoshitoko's reaction, but he obeys whispering something.

Left alone, the young man is more relaxed walks towards me and I step back, so he reassures me:"I don't want to hurt you. I want to check your wound". I let him check my arm. I groan for the pain when he tries to move it. He looks more friendly than his colleague, so I try to ask:"Can you tell me who are you and how many days passed since my kidnap? Will you torture me again to seek information I don't have?". He sighs: "The arm is broken, now I call a doctor so he can help you better. Now you are on a pirate ship and you were kidnapped by Yoshitoko yesterday, following captain's order. Now the captain is away, but in a short time he'll be back and will decide what to do about you". "Earlier I said the truth: I don't know anything about Nobunaga's future plans. Keep me here he's useless" I whisper, "Even if you don't know anything you'll probably stay here as a political hostage to be used against your friends" the man explains my situation. The sadness overwhelms me to the thought I'll be used against my friends: I can't do this to them. "But as I told you is the captain to decide, so he could even release you" he tries to reassure me, but I have no illusions: if I were in his position I'll do the same. I even realize probably I won't be able to go back to my time. No way this will happen! The man says they wait for their captain, so it means the ship is still in the port: that makes my escape more easily. The man is inside the cell and the grill is open: all I have to do is run and don't be caught. But the pirate in front of me is still vigil even if he's more relaxed, surely is ready to catch me and even I'd beat him he'll give the alarm. No, escape at this moment is too risky but if I don't do it right now later would be impossible.

The only thing I can do is talk with the captain: I'm even ready to beg for my release, it's necessary. "The captain will be here in a few hours, so be more patient" he ends the conversation. "What kind of man is your captain?" I wonder, "The captain? Is an edgy man. He treats with respect his subordinates, but he doesn't trust anyone except me on this ship. Is the type of person who can be your friend but he stabs you in the back some minutes after" he responds. So he's a bastard and the possibilities he'd let me go are very low.

* * *

It's almost evening and Hideyoshi is worried: y/n told him this morning she'd have gone in the city until lunchtime, but she didn't come back. He asked around but nobody was able to tell him where y/n was. He alerted Nobunaga who decided to hold a war council to find her. Hideyoshi expresses all of his worry and Mitsunari takes word with a stern look on his face:"I'm quite worried as well, Lord Hideyoshi. We should look after her". 

"Maybe she escaped after she went to war, after all, was her first time on a battlefield. I won't be surprised" Mitsuhide suggests with his cunning tone, but a more careful eye can see a glimpse of worry. In the past days, he went to some places with a very horrible reputation and in a red light district and he noticed a lot of Portuguese men who acted too much secretive for being simply merchant. They were really cautious: they gazed around before speaking with someone and once Mitsuhide risked revealing his true identity. Just today he succeeded to talk with a man after days of failures, but what he discovered was suspicious arms traffic. He didn't discover anything about y/n's missing. And the possibilities she's been kidnapped are not low. "My lucky charm is not a coward, Mitsuhide: she proved it during the war"       

Nobunaga scolds him, "Then I suppose we should look after her" snorts Ieyasu. "As if you hadn't done it before, before" teases Mitsuhide: Ieyasu's contrarian reactions are always a delight for him.

"Lord Ieyasu is always so kind" Mitsunari praises him. Ieyasu scolds him:"I told you I wasn't searchi-", "Enough! Each of you will send your own scouts in the city to collect information" Nobunaga stops the discussion. Once the council ends, all the warlord obey to Nobunaga orders, sending men in the city and its surroundings with the order to search for y/n and arrest everyone look suspicious. But as time passes, nobody finds y/n.

[multi-fandom-inserts]

Baba Yaga {Part 1}

Hey Guys! So this is going to be a series! After so many requests for John Wick x Pregnant Reader, I have answered your prayers! 

A/N: there is a few pieces of violence towards the pregnant reader, it isn’t graphic but I understand it may be distressing to some readers.Violence towards anyone is not tolerated it’s simply for story purposes. ENJOY.

XXX

Not every legend is a myth, some are flesh and blood. Beyond every legend is a reality, as radiant and sometimes as chilling as the story itself.

  You have witnessed the first hand power of legends... after all your husband is one of the best,

Baba Yaga

XXX

Over the past few days, the rain had begin to settle, roads and rivers had began to overflow and the news had started putting out weather warnings. Business shut and schools were suspended. People were told to stock up on food and water, stay sheltered and wait for it to pass. Hospitals began setting up small walk in centres for the needy and communities opened their doors to the homeless. The human race was a hard and selfish bunch but in times like this, I suppose we can be gentle and caring when needed.

Signing heavily, you switch the channel over from the news to catch the end of Labyrinth, you then turn to the fireplace, gently crouching down to poke the fire with a metal rod, tormenting it to keep the flames alive to warm your cold living room. Your dog, Max, whimpers from the sofa, followed by a nudge at your feet, begging you to come back to the warmth of the sofa for a cuddle. You smile to yourself, pushing off the ground you strain to get to your feet, placing a hand on your swollen stomach.

Five months ago, you discovered you were pregnant. You and your husband, John were excited of course but with the... professions you were in, it made life a whole new level of difficult. John had popped out about an hour ago to do some last minute shopping (plus the little human inside you was begging for pickles) but he hasn't returned yet, making you worry.

As you return to the sofa and try and get comfortable, a strong kick echoed from your stomach making you jump. “Excuse me!” you laughed to your bump, just then Max suddenly barked loudly making you jump sharply causing a twinge of pain to shoot down your side. Max's large, German Shepard frame ran less than gracefully down the corridor, continuing to growl and bark into the kitchen. You ignore him at first, Max liked to watch birds and other wildlife from the kitchen.

But then, a clang echoes from the kitchen, the sound of metal hitting the floor making you freeze. Max growls aggressively. Your heart freezes, beneath the sofa side table is a small handgun. You creepy silently – which is hard for a woman of your size – and edge towards the kitchen, listening out for noises. You nudge your way into the kitchen, the fruit bowl is on the floor with the various fruits spread across the floor. From your view, the kitchen was empty but as you nudge round the island, you saw something that made you sick.

Max lays on his side, unmoving, you walk closer to him, your hands fumble for your phone as you call John and place the phone in your pocket. His light fur was splattered in blood with the  suspected weapon beside his body. Your heart wrenches as tears begin to collect in your eyes.

“Y/N?” you suddenly hear a distant voice,

“John, someone’s in the house, they've killed Max.” you sob, not removing the phone from your pocket as you slowly get to your feet, holding the gun with your fist angrily as your sadness slowly develops into rage.

“Y/N! Get out of the house! Go!” John's voice yells, “Y/N!”

Suddenly, your face stings and everything blurs. You feel some sort of support as you fall to the floor but soon the cold stone floor is all you can feel. The figures that surround you are too blurred for you to recognise any of them. They quickly remove the phone from your pocket;

“Your wife is very pretty.” the person speaks, his accent is foreign... Russian perhaps but bought up in America so he's got a odd twinge to his voice. You can hear John's calm, collective voice speak back to the attacker. The man then laughs loudly but then suddenly, one of the intruders is in your face, a gun goes off and your vision goes black.  

When you eventually come round, your head is pounding, your forehead feels hot and sticky with blood above a open gash. You're sat in front of a large fire, the décor was old yet modern, art work hung on the red papered walls proudly but the lighting was low with a huge bar, coffee machine and deck at the far end just before the large frosted window. There was large bookshelves with huge, old chairs and tables. You move to touch your stomach, trying to coach baby into kicking to show they are okay but your hands are tied to the arms.

Your head runs over a million different scenarios, you start to look for little things, weapons, photos anything that could indicate where you are or who has taken you. Then a smell becomes familiar, the hint of cigar smoke, brandy and wood. Your heart sinks as you bite your lip, drawing blood. “Hello?” you say loudly, you were nervous but years of training has taught you to keep your nerves on the inside, if you look scared they will take advantage. The noise of large wooden doors open followed by the sound of footsteps.

“Sleeping beauty is up, boys!” a lad-ish, Russian voice screams, more footsteps enter the room, whooping and shouting like idiots. You can smell the booze before they come near you. The boy dumps himself in the chair opposite you and eyes you intensely.

He was young, twenty-five maybe thirty. Dirty blonde hair, a mole on his upper lip with piercing blue eyes. A scar that runs from the right side of his nose to his jaw. His wore a expensive suit with a red pocket square similar to the colour of the walls. Into his jacket was sown the letters: I.T. You watched him for a minute, as his eyes gobbled up every inch of you, you were doing the same.

“Do I have something on my face?" you finally snap, sarcastically.

He looks taken back, a hard frown settles into his face. The boys friends begin to snicker and laugh behind his back, you smirk at his friends reactions and just as he threw his hand into his jacket and removing a gun, either to shook or to strike you for a second time, the slamming of a door broke the laughter and makes the man freeze.

"Put that gun down, Iosef!" a older, manlier voice yells.

The man who stood before me, almost srunk in his shoes as he moves backwards away from yourself. The other men flee the room, leaving the two gentlemen and me. Your head has really started to pound now but as the man moved round into view, you gasped silently.

His name is Viggo Tarasov, leader of the Tarasov Mob, one of the most powerful crime families in New York City. He also was your husbands employer before retirment. Viggo's eyes widen in horror as he looks at you, before he knew it, the man who kidnapped you, was punched so hard in the stomach, he threw up.

"What did I do?"  Iosef renches as he cleans up his own vomit with a towel thrown at him. Viggo steps over to you as he mumbles something in Russain to his son, removing a knife from his jacket, he cuts your wrists free, giving you space to cluch your stomach and as you do, the small life kicks inside you making you relax.

"We did what you asked, no one saw shit!" Iosef argues as he's removed from the floor, your eyes widen, Viggo ordered this hit?

"I'm not talking about that, you stupid fuck!" his father roars grabbing him by the struff of the neck and angling towards yourself, "It's about her, you attacked and kidnapped a pregnant woman!"

"So? I wasn't gonna hurt her!"  Iosef insisted, "I just liked her husbands car so thought if I took her, he'd give me the car and I'd give her back to him."

"You fucking asshole, you killed my dog too." you suddenly spit in anger, removing yourself from the chair, storming forwards, Viggo's guard stoppped you grasping you firmly by the arm. You wanted to fight back but looking down at your stomach, you knew you couldn't, but you did manage to swipe the guards small pocket knife which you quickly threw into Iosef's shoulder.

Viggo stepped backwards, looking at you with gentle eyes as his son whimpers and screamed in pain, removing the knife, Viggo does not offer his son any aid, but instead waits for his son to speak. “I'm going to fucking kill you” the young boy stuttered as he removed the knife, his father strikes him once again, this time he's forced to sit on the ground as his stomach empties.

“You touch her again, I'll let her kill you.” Viggo threatens before pouring himself another drink, “Now you see, son. It's not what you did that angers me the most. It's who you did it too.” Viggo said as you remove the knife from his sons throat and takes a seat at the bar.

“These fucking nobodies?! A chick that's good with a knife and some fucking loser?!” Iosef says defiantly.

Viggo signed,  “These fucking nobodies, are John and Y/N Wick.” the names rolled off his tongue like poison, “Both are, well there are no secret here anymore, the best hitman and assassin in the world. John used to work for us about two years ago whilst Y/N worked for our Italian rivals, we called him, Baba Yaga.”

The name sent goosebumps up your spine, you hated it when people called him Baba Yaya, it's the name that haunted your life so years and the name you never wanted to say and as the years of working for the Italian mob flooded back, you shivered violently.

“The fucking bogeyman?”  Iosef asks with a scoff.

You laughed, “John wasn't the bogeyman,” you say softly.

“He was the one you sent to kill the fucking bogeyman!” Viggo spat, Iosef suddenly looked pale. “John is a man of extreme focus, commitment and sheer will. Something you, know very little about.” the father and son were now, nose to nose with each other,  Iosef looking more and more worried by the second, his father smirked a little, “I know, I once saw him kill three men, with a pencil.”

Viggo joking poked his son with a imaginary pencil before refilling his glass, you sat in complete silence, taking in the surroundings and the men squabbling in front of you, listening to them tell old work stories about your husband.

“And then, one day he asked to leave, I suppose Y/N had something to do with it. I said I'd let him leave on one condition, one agreement. I have him an impossible task, something no man could of ever pulled off: kill all of our enemies. The bodies he burned that day, lay the foundations for what we are today...” he trailed off, almost thinking about that day, you remember it very well, you had word he was coming for you but what you didn't know was if it was to help you get out or kill you.

“I can make this right!” Iosef then screams, begging to help and forgiveness. You can only laugh at his  desperation.  Iosef turns to you, angrily as he storms quickly across the back between you. His arm his stretched out for your throat, the bodyguard does nothing as you snatch  Iosef wrist and twist it, he drops the knife into your palm as you manipulate his body to where your arm his round his throat with the knife gently piercing the soft flesh.

“Listen up, kiddo.” you say softly in his ear, “No one can help you, John will find and he will kill you, there's no way you are going to survive the next 72 hours because no one on John's list has. But I'll guarantee you, if my husband doesn't put a bullet in you, I will.”

You throw him to the ground in front of his father, who makes no effort what so ever to help his son, instead he kicks him in the ribs, flipping him over to face upwards, and then he angrily spits in Russain. “You've started the clock, son.”